Once upon a time, being free meant not having to come inside when my mother told me to do so. In a way, it still does.

As I left home for college in Texas, freedom became a very fluid notion. Once I had an idea of what I wanted to do creatively, that became very fluid as well. I was growing and changing, and I was also growing up. I had a better idea of what I’d do as an artist but I wanted more than self-sufficiency. Somewhere in there, I shifted from being an artist that implements someone else’s ideas to being an artist that has ideas of my own---ideas that I actually develop and implement. When this happened, my dreams took on another dimension. I had always been willing to refuse the perceived safety of a straight job, clothes off the rack from the mall, a Volvo and whatever else goes along with normalcy and conformity, to be my own person—whatever that meant. Now that I had a vision, I was willing to make such sacrifices for my creative life.

Not that it was much of a sacrifice. I was never all that interested in hedonism. I had lived long enough to see what happens to grown ups who eat and drink and smoke whatever they want and it was far from pretty. Or fun. Refusing to conform to the status quo was perceived by many as an act of defiance that I would eventually outgrow but I never did. You can’t outgrow who you are. My ideas catapulted me into an alternative world filled with music, words, visuals. I have never looked back.

Now that I’m living the life I always imagined I would, I realize that I was already here in the first place. I have always been independent.

Every time I stood my ground, every time I refused to make myself over into something that I wasn’t, every time I refused to compromise my creative vision, I was declaring my independence. Nothing forced me to do this more than moving to New York City and staking my claim on a vibrant productive artistic life. Living here isn’t easy, especially if you’re not from here. There has to be something bigger than you that compels you to stay because if you’re from someplace else, it can feel as though everything is telling you to leave. Unlike the natives who have the home advantage, you can’t go back to your old room and regroup when things get difficult emotionally or financially. There is no culture shock or period of readjustment for them, either. It’ll take a year or more to adjust to the city---and that’s usually when a lot of people decide to go home. Who can blame them? Warmer weather. Cheaper living. Better digs.

Of course, discovering the roots of my independence gave me a newfound appreciation not only for myself as the child who knew her own mind but also for my brothers and how inclusive they were towards me. I was only following their lead. By the time it was made clear to me that I wasn’t supposed to attack life the way that they did, it was much too late…